Being a cog in the wheel of state politics can be frenetic. Ringing bells call lawmakers to their seats, gauntlets of lobbyists chatter, and herds of people stampede through the marble halls of the capital to create a cacophony of sound that over time becomes familiar and strangely comforting.
The energy at the end of a legislative session is particularly intense and addictive if you are a player, and mind-numbing if you're not.
For legislators self-appointed to the center of hot issues, procrastination is no longer an option at the end. Controversial bills must be resolved, and chaotic lines in the sand are drawn. Held in captivity for long hours and sleep deprived, these people exist on raw emotion and arguments erupt. Doors slam and tears flow. It's high drama.
For the rest of us, the final day of the legislative session can't come soon enough. Spouses and children are no longer enamored with our public life and rightfully skeptical the 17th time we predict this day at the capital will be our last. Our clients are antsy and irritable. Tax returns stating ridiculously low income aren't filed. Houses need cleaning, flower beds beg to be raked and our hair needs to be cut.
We are all grateful for the increasing amount of sunlight, and welcome the screaming peepers at dusk and chorus of birds in the early morning that cheer us to the finish line.